What Sara Said
by Firestar9mm
Summary: It's Valentine's Day, and the CSIs are working a massacre, as usual. But in this job, you either get a sense of humor, or you look for other work.


**Author's Introduction:**

I keep meaning to do this. I like it when I actually follow through with something…no matter how long it takes.

I seem to write in the season two/season three mindset. Boy, do I miss those days.

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**What Sara Said**

_A CSI Valentine's Day fic by Firestar9mm

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_

For Gil Grissom, all February 14thmeant was a spike in crimes of passion.

The owner of the apartment looked pissed, but Jim Brass was keeping him at bay while the CSIs processed his apartment, looking for something, anything suspicious.

"Shy-eeeeeeet," Nick Stokes groaned, dragging the word out. He was kneeling on the floor, going over the tiles with a flashlight, looking for trace evidence that the murdered woman had been in this apartment—hair, fibers, anything. "This sucks, this really sucks. We're gonna be here all night."

Sara Sidle gave him one of her cute gap-toothed smiles. "What's the matter, Nicky? Got a hot date tonight?"

The good-looking Texan actually pouted, the expression out of place on his square-jawed countenance. "As a matter of fact, I do. Not that it'll matter now, since we've got a Valentine's Day massacre on our hands."

"Awww, too bad. Poor widdle Nicky," Sara chuckled.

Nick leaned back on his haunches and considered the other CSI for a minute. Two wineglasses had been left on the kitchen counter; she was dusting them meticulously, smiling when a print became visible. "How come _you_ don't have a date, Sar?"

"Because I'm working," Sara said patiently, not taking her eyes off the wineglasses.

"You know what I mean," Nick said, getting to his feet. "Sara, you work too hard. You take as much overtime as you can handle, and you throw yourself into every case. When are you going to get a life for yourself?"

"I _have_ a life," Sara said, a little steel in her voice. She was tired of having this argument with everyone she knew. "Besides, Valentine's Day is a masochistic holiday. Anyone who's not in a relationship gets to feel miserable and think less of themselves, and anyone who is in a relationship has a fight with their partner because one couldn't read the other's mind. Everyone ends up unhappy."

"And sometimes they end up dead," a voice interrupted. Sara and Nick both turned their attention to their boss, who was standing in the kitchen doorway. "Are you two done in here?"

"No, Nick's too busy complaining that our crime scene got in the way of his Valentine's date," Sara joked.

Grissom didn't laugh. "We're sorry the death of a young girl inconvenienced you," he said mildly.

Nick glared at Sara, who looked penitent. "Just because the closest you've been to a man's heart is through an autopsy, don't take it out on me."

"Ouch," Sara muttered, turning away from the counter.

"Enough," Grissom barked. "Finish up in here."

As soon as their supervisor left, Sara broke the silence. "Okay. So I thought I was making a joke, but really I was making you look bad in front of Gris, and I'm sorry."

Nick answered right away. "And I was mad, so I said something awful, and I'm sorry."

They exchanged smiles, and the apologies were accepted just like that. Such was the nature of their relationship.

Silence for another minute before Sara piped up again. "Valentine's Day is still stupid, though."

Nick laughed. "Bitter much?"

"No!" Sara insisted. "If people want to celebrate their love, they should do it all the time. They shouldn't go out on dates and treat each other nicely just because it's one stupid day. They should do it all the time."

Sara didn't know that Grissom had come back into the doorway. He had felt guilty for snapping at his team. He hadn't necessarily gone back to apologize, but he had thought about offering some encouragement. When he had come back into the doorway, he had paused to listen to Sara.

"Even this," Sara said. "I feel bad for that girl. The date of her death should be important, not some idiotic commercial holiday..."

Grissom's eyes softened, but still he said nothing. The other two CSIs still hadn't noticed his presence.

Nick seemed to have softened too. "We'll get justice, Sar."

Sara opened the fridge with one gloved hand. "It's not like we'll find it next to the lowfat yogurt—"

She stopped short, staring into the fridge.

"What's wrong? Find some raw hamburger in th—" Nick also stopped, stared. "Is that...?"

"I think so," Sara said slowly, reaching into the depths of the fridge and resurfacing with a Tupperware container that held what was unmistakably a human heart.

"Ah, Gris?" Nick called. "You might want to see this!"

"What? What is it?" Grissom rushed from the doorway. Sara and Nick whirled, not wondering how he had gotten there so fast.

Sara and Nick exchanged glances, and then she broke the spell by holding the container out to Grissom. Years later, whenever February 14th rolled around, Gil Grissom would think not of crimes of passion, but of the heart in the container and what Sara said.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Grissom."

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**Author's Notes:**

I've had this written for…oh, it's got to be two years now. I always meant to post it, my own quiet protest against things like Valentine's Day.

Finally, justice is served.


End file.
